


It’s Not Living (If It’s Not With You)

by 90sgillovny



Category: Call the Midwife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-05 04:51:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17912336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/90sgillovny/pseuds/90sgillovny
Summary: Shelagh & Patrick have never met, but after a car accident, he doesn’t leave her bedside. And neither does anyone else. It’s not living, if it’s not with Shelagh Turner





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Modern day Call The Midwide AU

“No. No. No. No. I have to go to the hospital.” Patrick protested, reaching to remove the oxygen mask that had been placed over his mouth. 

“Sir, don’t worry, that’s where we’re taking you. You’re in an ambulance, you’re safe.” The two paramedics reassured him, then shared a look of concern as it seemed he doesn’t remember how he got here. 

Patrick closed his eyes and suddenly the realisation came rushing over him. The red light turning green, the child rushing across the road, the swerving to avoid him, his car speeding into the opposite lane, flipping a car in the oncoming traffic, the panic, the brunette in the drivers seat... 

He let out a wail of pain and panic as he bolted upright from the shock. A hand placed on his back and then his shoulder, telling him to lie back down, which, as a doctor, he knew he had to. Who knows what kind of internal injuries he may have sustained? From what he can deduce without tests, he was fine other than a fractured rib and a burst lip. 

When they ambulance arrives at the hospital, he’s wheeled through corridors and busy A&E units and into elevators. 

“Doctor Patrick Turner, 30 years old, involved in a collision with another vehicle while trying to swerve to avoid a child running into the road.” A junior doctor calls out as they run with him and 2 other doctors. 

Eventually, they pass through intensive care, and he catches a glimpse of her in her room - the woman from the car. She looks tiny, unconscious, bandages around her head, hooked up to machines. And she’s alone. He keeps his eyes on her as long as he can, pangs of guilt running over him. 

His theories are confirmed, albeit miraculous. He had no further injuries other than the suspected fractured ribs and some stitches in his bottom lip. 

“Looks like you were right, Doctor Turner. You know your body very well, and being doctor doctor yourself, you’ll know it’s important to rest. We won’t need to keep you in as you’re not showing any signs of head injuries, although you mustn’t drive again until your ribs are healed.” His consultant told him and Patrick shivered inside at he thought of getting behind a wheel any time soon. 

“The... What about the little boy, the road. I was trying to-“ He couldn’t find the words. 

“You swerved in time. He wasn’t injured.” He doctor smiled solemnly, knowing there was a price paid for the safety of the child. 

He thanked his doctors for their help and collected his things from the chair opposite his bed, tucking the pain medication and prescription into his bag and makes his way to the elevator. He sees the sign pointing out that intensive care is on level 3 and doesn’t hesitate to press it. 

He can see the woman from the doors of the lift, still unconscious, still alone. Why hasn’t anyone come to see her? He approaches the window, hesitant to take in the full extent of the injuries when a voice startled him. 

“You can go in you know, I’m sure she’d appreciate the visitor. No one else has arrived for her yet.” A soft Jamaican accent whispered, lightly touching his arm and gestured to the doorway. 

He nodded and slowly edged closer to the door, faltering slightly before deciding that he owes this woman his company while she’s alone in this horrible situation, if not so much more. 

“I’m Nurse Anderson, if you need anything, or if she needs anything, just call for me or press the button at the side of her bed.” She smiled softly and went off in the opposite direction. 

Patrick stood at the foot of the bed for a minute, looking at the mess he’s made. A horrible accident that he couldn’t have avoided, but nevertheless, will owe this woman apologies he might never be able to make. And it’ll never be enough, he thinks to himself as his fingers graze over a medical chart. He knows it’s against the rules to read it. But what if it isn’t as bad as I think? 

He lets the curiosity and the guilt take over and picks up the chart. Shelagh Mannion. Scottish. 26 years old. Hematoma. Internal bleeding. Fractured ankle. He lets out a whimper as he slumps into the chair next to her bed, taking her hand and whispering apologies. 

He’s not sure how long has passed when a short-haired young woman wearing burgundy scrubs bursts into the room near tears. 

“Shelagh!” She exclaims, immediately by her beside, gently opening the unconscious woman’s eyes and shining her torch into them. Then checking her pulse. Then checking her IV’s. Then checking her machines. All the while muttering about how she’s sorry she was late and that she’ll make it up to her when she wakes up. When she stops and sits down to take a breath, it’s as though she only just notices the man sat in the chair opposite her. 

“Are you?” She gestures to Shelagh, receiving a shake of the head in response and she shoots Patrick a confused look. 

“I was involved in the same accident. I was almost unscathed but I saw Shelagh on my way to the ward and she was alone, I couldn’t leave her.” He paused, hesitant to admit it. “I feel it’s my fault. I should’ve braked instead of swerving but I panicked, I should-“ His voice broke as tears pooled in his eyes, he let go of his grip on Shelagh’s hand and leaned back in the chair, rubbing his eyes. 

“No.” She shook her head. “I heard about what happened from a paramedic. You didn’t have time to think. You couldn’t have-“ She trailed off because, what was there to say? They just shared a nod silently as the sat by the bedside. 

There were a few minutes of silence before an older woman swept through the door, a younger wide-eyed blonde in tow. “Oh, Valerie. Please, you should be resting. You got out of theatre and came straight here.” The blonde pleaded, moving closer to put her hand on Valerie’s shoulder, although, seemed to know the other woman enough that she knew it was pointless. 

“No.” She shook her head, pursing her lips. “I can’t leave her, Trixie. We were supposed to be in that car together this morning.” She sniffled, not able to hold in her tears. Trixie squeezed her shoulder and Val leaned into her. 

“Doctor Franklin, why don’t you take Doctor Dyer to find an empty staff room. Junior doctors are exhausted enough outwith these kind of circumstances.” The consultant suggested as she fussed around Shelagh with a stethoscope and taking her temperature. 

Trixie nodded, helping Valerie up. “Yes, Doctor.” Val gave her friend a kiss on the hand before leaving the room. 

“Julienne?” Patrick lifted his head when he heard the voice. 

“Patrick? What- oh, it’s been years! Are you? Is this?...” she paused to collect her thoughts. “Are you okay?” 

“It’s been what? 5 years since medical school? You haven’t changed a bit.” He gave a soft smile. “And no. I don’t know her at all. We were in an accident on the way to different hospitals and I couldn’t leave her alone.” 

“Oh, I started much older than you, Patrick. But I appreciate the flattery as always.” She smiled. “Well. I don’t have much to report on Miss Mannion, but there’s always hope. You should rest too, if you were involved. Go home, sleep.” Julienne suggested just as she was paged, she gave an apologetic look before sweeping back out of the room. 

-

Patrick doesn’t know how many hours have gone by but he wakes up in the pitch black to the sounds of Shelagh’s machines still beeping rhythmically. He stands up, stretching his legs and making his way into the corridor to get coffee when he finds Doctor Dyer sat perched on the edge on the nurses station. He picks up 2 cups from the machine and brings them to the red-eyed woman. 

“I should’ve been there with her. She come up from Aberdeen especially to see me, but I got called into surgery. I’m a Junior Doctor, I cant pass up a surgery. She understood, she was me last year. She did her foundation years up here in London, that’s how we met. She’s been my best friend since the first day we met, but her Mum got sick so she moved back. It’s her birthday this week. We were meant to do all the sights, like we did the first week we met. She’d never been to London before when we started our placements... There’s still so much for her to see.” Valerie clutched her coffee cup, staring down into it to concentrate on anything but crying even harder than she already was. 

“I’m sorry. I wish-“ the conversation was cut short by the rapid beeping of Shelagh’s monitors. Val jumped off the desk, sending her coffee cup flying snd both Doctor’s rushed into the room, followed by Julienne and Trixie. 

“The internal bleeding has started again. We have to take her to theatre now.” Julienne exclaimed. “Doctor Franklin, find Doctor Crane and let her know I need her in theatre two urgently.”


	2. Chapter 2

Hours go by, although unnoticed by the occupants of the operating theatre at St Nonnatus Hospital. Patrick is in the viewing area, using his medical connections to allow him into the restricted area. Pacing the tiny room at a mile-a-minute is Valerie, a brilliant foundation Doctor in her second year, knowing that she’s a brilliant surgeon but won’t be trusted in the theatre because of her experience - and because it’s her best friend in the whole world lying on the table - is killing her. Trixie is by her side, of course. They’ve been inseparable since Trixie turned up that August with the sparkliest pink stethoscope you’d ever seen. Val doesn’t want her to see her like this, but she doesn’t have a choice because Trixie isn’t going anywhere, and this feeling she has in her stomach that makes tears stream from her eyes isn’t about to go anywhere anytime soon. 

Missing from the room is Julienne, one of the most experienced doctors to walk the halls of the hospital, and the mother figure the younger doctors don’t have time to have. There are very few hands in the world steadier than hers, but the weight of her friends’ worlds are on her shoulders and that’s enough to make the gods tremble. She closes her eyes and takes a breath, placing a stitch in the perfect place and the sigh of relief when Shelagh’s monitors steady out could be heard from the hospital across the city that Patrick is supposed to be working at. 

When the room empties, everyone rushes behind Shelagh’s bed, following her up to her room. Except Julienne, who slumps against the scrub sinks and prays for the safety of the sleeping woman. Doctor Crane follows shortly after, breathing a sigh of relief as she washes her hands. 

“We did brilliantly, Jules. She’s going to be alright.” A supportive pat on the shoulder was all that could be done in the moment. 

“I hope so. I hate seeing my girls like this. Valerie was always the strongest. Never a day goes by she’s not cradling an exhausted junior Doctor who’s in tears over a bad surgery or because they’ve been awake for 2 days running.” 

“We all get to have our vulnerable days. It’s the fear of losing her best friend. But, as you say, she’s a tough cookie. And she’s your favourite.” Phyllis says with a wink. “You’re allowed to feel upset for her. But you’re an even tougher cookie, you’ll be fine.” 

Both women rid of their surgical aprons and made their way to the desk to sign off on the surgery. 

“Thank you. Thank you so much, Doctor.” Val wraps herself around Julienne almost as soon as she rounded the corner onto the ward Shelagh was on and she accepts it by squeezing her tightly. 

“We can only pray now. She’s through the worst of it now, it seems. Stay with her today, your patients will be safe in the hands of Nurse Anderson for the while.” Julienne holds the younger doctor at arms length, giving her the soft smile that seems to make all right in the world. Julienne knows that’s far from the truth, but she’s grateful for whatever source of comfort she provides in times of struggle. 

Val nods her ‘thank you’s’ and slips back into Shelagh’s room and into she chair opposite the one Patrick hasn’t left in 2 days. 

-

Two weeks go by and there are no changes. Shelagh is no better, but she’s no worse. Patrick hasn’t left the room for more than 2 days to go home and collect clothes. He’s There’s a tension in the ward because nobody knows what to say. Val hasn’t spoken for hours but she’s been thinking for weeks. 

“Shouldn’t you- I’m not trying to. I mean-“ she hesitates. She’s been wondering why Patrick hasn’t gone home. Doesn’t he have family? She knows he’s a surgeon in another hospital, and that he doesn’t have to be there because of his injuries. But he doesn’t seem to have anyone to go home to. 

“I know, it seems strange. We don’t know each other. But, there’s something keeping me here. Other than the fact that I utterly blame myself. I feel I have to be there when she wakes up, I can’t just leave her to wonder what happened and who did it. She might hate me when she comes round, but I’d hate myself if I didn’t stay” 

“I’m not sure Shelagh’s capable of hate.” Val smiled. “I’ve never heard the words out of her mouth in the 2 years I’ve known her.” She reached over and squeezed her friends hand. 

“She looks peaceful. Like she’s so used to it, like I literally turned her life upside down. I don’t know what I’d do with myself if she doesn’t recover fully.” Val took a sharp breath at the thought of the end of Patrick’s sentence. He doesn’t know Shelagh. He doesn’t know what she’s been through. Her mother dying too early, uprooting her whole life to go back to Scotland. The last two years of her life were anything but peaceful. She exhales, but he doesn’t know that. And it’s honourable that he wants to be there for her when she wakes up. It’s not his fault, she tells herself. Because that’s what Shelagh would say if she could. 

“Val...” Patrick jumps out of his chair, dropping Shelagh’s hand. 

“What? What? Patrick?!” She leaps up alongside him, noticing what he has. 

“She’s moving. She’s waking up. Julienne!” Val rushes out of the room, Patrick hesitating whether to stay by her side or let this moment be with the people she loves. He decides to follow Val out of the room. 

Julienne and Val, followed by Trixie and Nurse Anderson fuss around Shelagh for at least 10 minutes while Patrick watches from the window in the corridor. He watches her cough and splutter as they remove the breathing tubes. 

When she was awake and as aware as she could be, all the doctors left except Val, who’d set up on Shelagh’s bed, fixing her hair and hugging her. 

“D’you remember much?” She whispered hesitantly. Shelagh shakes her head. 

“I know I was in the car, coming to get you. That’s it” She says, voice cracking from lack of water. Val shudders at the reply but reaches over and hands her friend a glass of water. 

There’s silence for a few minutes, and Val can see Shelagh’s eyes keep shifting to the Patrick, who’s stood at the window trying not to look as though he’s staring. 

“That’s Patrick. He was involved too. He’s been here the entire time. Talking to you. He left last week for about 3 hours. That’s it.” Shelagh’s eyes widened, eyes darting between Val and Patrick. 

“Do you? Should I... bring him in?” Val suggested. Shelagh nodded. 

She hopped off the bed and gestured to Patrick. 

“Is she okay?” 

“Ask her yourself.” Val winked and left off down the corridor.


End file.
